


Super-Callous-Fragile-Ballistic-Yondu-the-Freakin’-Badass

by DrAphra



Series: Space Pirate and Kid [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Basically when Yondu realizes he's a dad, Gen, Two Shot, and when Peter realizes he's always had a father, because we both have feels but she has the writing talent, posting on behalf of my sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 17:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrAphra/pseuds/DrAphra
Summary: Yondu’s had a lousy week.  He was lied to, witnessed a child get murdered, and now has to command a whole ship of testy Ravagers - plus one uppity Terran he’s decided to keep.  Jackass be damned





	Super-Callous-Fragile-Ballistic-Yondu-the-Freakin’-Badass

**Author's Note:**

> **[Series title a reference to Lone Wolf and Cub. LK was here. And she wrote this to Brother, What Happened? by Muddy Magnolias. Shout out to my sis for posting this on her account!]**

The Eclector was always noisier when the crew was asleep. At least for her captain. Even with him being a touch defective thanks to Kree slime, Yondu Udonta’s empathic abilities weren’t to be weeded out of him so easily. While not lost in REM with the rest, he connected to the higher lifeforms easier than when they were awake. Fears and ambitions floated at his feet like a mist that he felt rather than saw. 

Rarely anything presented itself in specifics but often the Captain sought a bottle to drown out the sheer _force_ of feelings he might wade into by accident. Tonight, though he’d just have to cope. 

He stepped over his snoring and drooling comrades, more than one suffering from night terrors and malaise. They’d called off the search for their latest prize after a little over twelve odd hours of hunting for the half pint. Never mind how he got loose from his room, they figured the kid would scurry out once he got hungry enough. 

Several basic treat-and-box traps had been laid throughout the ship, courtesy of Cook, with each one taking a guess as to what small humans might find tasty. Ironic, since several choice threats about eating the child was likely what had sent him to ground. 

Yondu irritably kicked the thick hide of a gunner, who proceeded to turn over in his sleep and continue his dreams about whatever sweet thing it was he’d left at their last port. Growling, the Captain made his way towards the recesses of the ship. 

One presence was distinct from the others simply because it was so familiar, so heartbroken. 

Not that Yondu would admit to having a heart. 

He trudged up a ladder into a crawl space that was almost too short to stand in. This was a less used storage area. Orloni infested if what he was picking up was correct. 

Crates were scattered hither and yon and a thin viewport showcasing the vast starry void of space cast a dim glow on the boy. He was tucked into the corner and curled into fetal position like the extra baggage he’d become. Yondu sighed. 

Peter Quill. Small, scruffy, and the newest shanghaied addition to the Eclector’s ragtag band of opportunists and thieves. Yondu spotted a black eye above Peter’s cheek. He grinned. As could be expected, the brat was none too happy about the arrangement. 

Lithjaio had given the kid some high and mighty speech about knowing his place as a captive when Peter had taken the cheap shot he was eye level with. Lithjaio wouldn’t be going for any brothel visits in the near future. Kraglin made sure the boy didn’t earn more than a shiner out of the ordeal. 

Better for Quill, then. Yondu recalled having an attitude as well at that age, only he’d gotten a mess of his teeth knocked out or made crooked for it. With any luck, the stubby Terran would keep his blunt fangs undamaged………along with everything else. 

Ego was not going to get this one. 

The Celestial had tricked Yondu. Had manipulated him from the very beginning. 

The Captain sneered. 

As former battle fodder, he didn’t take kindly to manipulation in any shape or contrivance. But the more he thought about it, the more he pieced together why, out of all the Ravager captains, Ego had decided to approach him. He couldn’t deny that his past was a part of it. 

Who better to tempt with money into bringing back your far-flung offspring than a greedy ex-slave with bitter memories of wishing time and again that his parents would come and rescue him from the Kree? Ego was sentimental and authentic. The Celestial makeup overwhelmed Yondu’s abilities, blinded them somewhat, but he had trusted him because he could sense…..sincerity. 

And Ego was sincere. Sincere about using his children in some kind of twisted experiment that most mortal hating Asgardians would balk at. Yondu could still see the piles and piles of skeletons behind his waking eyes. 

He’d be having his own share of night terrors for days, perhaps years to come. He swore he could even still hear Vhala screaming at him as she was ripped apart by her birth father’s energy. Ego had sent Yondu to Terra next, unware of Yondu’s suspicion or that he had used his abilities to override the ‘sleep’ command of the latest pet therapist residing in the palace. 

Yondu made trouble in the systems surrounding Ego’s planet before jumping to Earth. Let the bastard try and leave now with half the Nova Corp and at least a dozen more lawful factions cluttering the surrounding space and monitoring transmissions and jump points.

He’d have to wait nice and pretty for a least a decade before even thinking to go off planet with all the fuss Yondu Udonta caused. 

Three children he’d delivered to that fucking scumbag. Peter Quill wasn’t about to be the fourth. If **the jackass** wanted him, he could damn well come and get him himself. 

Not that Yondu would make it easy. 

The boy started shivering. It was a cold place the snot had picked to bed down in. Womb-like but frigid. 

Yondu cursed in Centaurian. He removed his coat and draped it over Peter. The shivers subsided. 

The kid would have to learn quick if he was going to make it out in the wider universe. Yondu was only helping him out because he was frail and pathetic and would probably catch some sort of bug if his temperature fluctuated overmuch. 

It definitely wasn’t because of the tear tracks on Peter’s face or the fact that Yondu could feel an oppressive _emptiness_ emanating from the boy as he dreamed about some woman dying. 

The Captain shook his head. Rarely did he get specifics. They were like ghosts. There but not there and certainly never his own. Yondu often likened them to the phantom pains of his missing fin that had stayed with him on into his adolescence before receding. 

He tentatively patted the boy’s shoulder. 

“Hang tough, kiddo. You ain’t the first motherless mite the Eclector’s taken in.” 

“Whachu clickin’ at me for?” 

Peter rolled over with the Captain’s coat clenched in his grubby paws to keep the chill away. He glared at Yondu through bleary and bloodshot eyes. 

Yondu switched back from his native language. 

“I was just makin’ a humble inquiry. My order ‘stay in your bunk or clean the galley’ was clear enough and this sure isn’t your bunk. I was askin’ if you’re full prepared to help Cook clean blood and lard stains out of his sinks?” 

Peter grumbled into the coat. Yond cocked his head and put a hand to his ear. 

“What was that now? Do speak up.” 

“I said screw you!”

Peter huffed and turned his back to the Captain, who chuckled. Yep, spunky. 

“Big words for a scrawny Terran brat. Tell you what. You can help Cook clean the sinks tomorrow _and_ you can wrangle Orlonis out of the vents.” 

Peter turned over again, wearing a look of apprehension. 

“What are Orlonis?”

Yondu flashed a nasty smile and whistled. His arrow leapt into the air. Peter watched as the arrow chased a pale rat-like creature he hadn’t known was in the storage area out into the open. It was grotesque and in its agitation tried to attack Peter. 

Yondu whistled sharply and the arrow pinned the vermin midair before it landed, dead, right in front of Peter’s nose. 

Quill hollered like a raboon from Berhert. Yondu returned his arrow to his side.

“Enough yowlin!” 

Peter, magically, shut up. 

“Shit boy, you wanna wake the crew? They’re less sunny when they’re cycle’s interrupted.” 

“They want to eat me” said Peter. It seemed like he might start crying again. 

“No one’s ‘bout to eat you, boy.” 

Peter sat up, defiant. 

“Lith-something wanted to!” 

It was true. Lithjaio had been licking his chops as others threatened to boil Peter in a stew. This had been two short minutes prior to Peter nut-punching the Skrull. 

“Well, Lithjaio will get the same treatment as our Orloni friend right there if he so much as tries. Captain’s orders are Captain’s orders ‘round here.” 

Yondu opened the hatch and began to go down the ladder out of the storage area. Peter peered over the opening to watch him leave. 

“Hey, where’r you goin?” 

“Back to my cabin. I ain’t foolish enough to stowaway in some pesthole for the night.” 

“Wait for me!”

Peter practically dove down the ladder. Yondu made a show of being uninterested if the kid followed him or not. The pit-patter of feet told him that Quill had seen the idiocy in his self-chosen accommodations. 

The boy caught up with him, tripping some since he was using his coat like a claret blanket. Yondu plucked it away from the child and shrugged it back on. 

“Gimme that back. You’re draggin’ it up and down the halls like it’s a mop.” 

Peter stuck his tongue out at Yondu who pursed his lips as if to whistle. Peter retracted his tongue and clapped his hands over his mouth. Yondu laughed. 

Quill would fit in fine. With lots of training, chores, and heists – he’d be wearing his own coat in no time. The tailor dealt in miniatures; tailors in space had to with all the races there were. Soon they’d have their own towheaded mascot. 

A small hand slipped into Yondu’s, startling him. 

Peter’s eyes were downcast. He wouldn’t so much as glance out at any of the stars in the viewports they passed. 

Quill wasn’t a dull edge. He’d gathered that there’d be no return trip to Terra. Yondu felt more of the boy’s loneliness seeping from him like a sewage runoff. Guilt, fresh and stabbing, hit the Captain. He could have left the boy on Terra. Quill had family there. Hell, he had his _species_ there. 

But there was something distinct about Peter, something Yondu’s sixth sense had encountered in the company of only one other being – Ego. 

Peter would not be safe on Earth. 

Yondu gave the boy’s hand the briefest squeeze before dropping it. It wouldn’t do for a stray crew member to see him being anything that could be misconstrued as soft or mushy. 

Many were loyal to him but many were more loyal to a payday and he kept peace being the hardest thing breathing the Eclector’s filtered air. 

“Where are we headed?” 

“That’s where are we headed, Captain” Yondu corrected Quill. “And the answer is the En’gali System.” 

There was a trader there that kept a ready supply of Yaka wood. Yondu would acquire some and fashion a new arrow or two, or five, or fifteen. Even with so much universe between he and Ego, Yondu knew the Celestial was enraged. He felt it and he was not above stockpiling when stressed. 

Besides, more arrows would decrease discontent about keeping the boy on instead of delivering him as cargo. The Captain had already weaved a true tale about the kid’s potential now all the kid had to do was prove he could rob places they couldn’t and the argument would fade from the crew’s in-the-moment minds. 

“Are you my dad?” 

“WHAT?!” 

Yondu whipped around to look at the kid and bashed his skull into a low-hanging pipe as they walked. 

“ANTHOS DAMN IT!” 

Peter backed away from the Centaurian as he devolved into another round of unintelligible all-caps hissing and clicking. 

Yondu rubbed the knot that was forming on his forehead and growled at Peter. 

“Kid, look at me. Do we look much the same to you?” 

Peter’s somber expression and was replaced by a shit-eating grin. He pointed to his cheek then to Yondu’s head. 

“Not much. But now you got a bruise like me.” 

Yondu hoisted the kid over his shoulder. The earthworm kicked and shouted in protest. 

“That’s it. Lip like that means you gotta help Cook, wrangle Orlonis, _and_ you can’t do it with that silly toy of yours hooked to your head.” 

Peter tried to kick him in the face but he caught the wretch’s knee. 

“You just try takin’ my Walkman!”

“Won’t be no try to it” Yondu retorted. 

They had reached the brat’s room. Without further debate, Yondu unhooked the music player from the kid’s hip and chucked him towards his bunk. Then he shut and locked the door using his palm on the nearby scanner. 

Oh, the wailing and the gnashing of fangs. That was real music to the ears. At least now the kid could sleep in an actual bed. Chances of him deciding to were slim but Yondu planned to rest knowing the punk he was going through so much pain to kidnap wouldn’t wind up like ration sticks from the back of Cook’s freezer come morning. 

He trekked to the Captain’s quarters. 

Yondu Udonta couldn’t have kids. The Kree liked their battle slaves violent but not capable of multiplying so infertility drugs were administered in lieu of the nonsensical option of castration. 

Stakar freed him just over sixty moons ago. Females ran by moons and their timeframes were often similar. If the drugs had been ineffective Yondu would have seen evidence of it at the ports he and the men were fond of frequenting. At least one wench would have come up demanding support for the unholy blue whirlwind he’d have saddled her with. As it happened, this was not the case. 

Ego puzzled Yondu. He had a roomy ugly palace. He actually _wanted_ progeny, or acted as if he did. Why not keep them there as company, mixed and motley like the crew on the Eclector? 

Why…….. _why kill them?_

Fury. This train of thought had him making fists. Yondu decided to put it from his mind. He had better things to drink and the decisions of planets that committed filicide were best left alone. 

Which Ego should pray he remained. Yondu wasn’t sure what he’d say to the Celestial if they ever met face-to-face again. But he’d bet his next job it wouldn’t be polite. 

\--------------  
_“Hey there, **JACKASS!** "_


End file.
